Chapter 8 - THE STATION CLOCK
The photograph of Celeste reached Sofia at 9:17 on Monday evening. By 9:25, Detective Ruiz had it, along with the complete message and the number that sent it. By 9:40, my father had turned off his phone because strangers were calling to ask whether he knew where four stolen gemstones were hidden.
I wanted to throw my own phone out the window.
Instead I sat on the couch with my bad leg raised and listened to the radiator hiss. Outside, the city kept moving. Buses sighed at the corner. A couple argued beneath the streetlight. Somewhere a dog barked at an empty sidewalk. Life had not stopped because a mansion had turned into a crime scene, even though mine sometimes felt as if it had.
"You don't have to do anything else tonight," Dad said.
"I know."
"Then stop watching the clock."
I looked away from the kitchen wall. "I wasn't."
He raised one eyebrow. We both knew I was lying.
At ten, Sofia called. She sounded breathless but calm. "The police located the woman in the station photograph. It was Celeste. She didn't flee when approached. Her attorney is present, and she's being questioned."
"Did she have the stones?"
"I don't know. Nobody will tell me yet. But Adrian's lawyer has confirmed another part of the travel plan. The Nice tickets were for Celeste, Adrian, and her brother Luc. She planned to leave her father believing the collection was moving to Luxembourg."
"Why did she send you the photograph?"
"She's trying to bargain. She believes Gabriel can protect her from Lucien."
I stared at the blank television screen. "After what she did to Sofia? After what she did to Noah?"
"Protection from threats isn't the same as freedom from consequences. Ruiz said that. Gabriel agrees."
I felt my shoulders loosen. Somewhere along the way, I'd become so used to powerful people trading favors that the idea of refusing a bargain almost seemed extraordinary.
"How's Gabriel?" I asked.
"He gave another statement today. This time he disclosed an account he hadn't told Diana about."
My stomach tightened. "Another secret loan?"
"Not exactly. He kept a private reserve for emergency payroll after the old shipping crisis. Some money passed through the same financial firm Lucien used. Gabriel hadn't believed it was relevant. His attorney told him to disclose it anyway."
"Was it relevant?"
"They're looking."
I pictured Gabriel at our kitchen table, admitting he'd preferred a convenient document to an honest question. Perhaps the lesson had finally reached him. He was putting records in front of investigators before someone else forced them out.
The next morning, a letter arrived from the mansion's human resources office confirming my paid medical leave. It stated that my employment would not be terminated for reporting an injury or cooperating with an investigation. Helen Brooks reviewed it before I signed acknowledgment of receipt. She also helped me arrange an independent medical follow-up and documented the pain that still woke me at night.
"This is what I want," I told Dad after the appointment. "A life where I can make a decision without wondering if someone will make me homeless for it."
He stirred his tea. "Then we find you that life."
"I've always wanted to study conservation. I just didn't think I could afford to."
"Your mother thought the same before she became a bookbinder. She started with a class at the public library."
I looked at the blue drawings spread over the table. All those years I'd spent treating my father's craft as a story from another world, while the evidence that saved a jewel collection had been sitting beside our toaster.
At noon Sofia came by with a notebook full of questions for Dad. A forensic specialist had asked whether the original frame could have concealed small containers without altering the visible settings. Dad pointed to four protective sleeves he'd designed for the most delicate mounts. The sleeves were brass and had been intended to travel separately in the base of each panel.
"Most people would check the front settings," he said. "They'd see an imitation stone and record the original as missing. But the original could have been tucked into its sleeve before the panel was shipped."
"Then the jewel might never have left the mirror," Sofia said.
"I can't say that. Someone could have taken it anywhere. I'm saying this is a place experts should inspect if they haven't already."
She sent the diagram through the foundation's lawyer to the investigators. We heard nothing for hours. I tried reading a novel, but every page became a courtroom exhibit or a train timetable in my imagination.
In the afternoon Gabriel arrived at our apartment. Dad was out at physical therapy, and Sofia had returned to her office. I opened the door on my crutches and found him holding a paper bag.
"I brought soup," he said. "Sofia says your father makes the kind with barley. I didn't want to show up with roses after what happened at the wedding."
I moved aside. "Soup is definitely safer."
Before he reached the kitchen, he hesitated beside the window. "Two men who used to work for my family came to see me this morning," he said. "They offered to solve the problem with Lucien in the old way."
I felt the blood leave my face. "What did you tell them?"
"That I wouldn't turn a criminal investigation into another act of violence. I told them to leave. My attorney documented the contact."
"Did they listen?"
"They left. If they make threats, we'll report them. I can't promise they'll become decent men because I ask. But I can refuse to give them orders."
I looked at the gray Chicago street beyond the glass. His reputation had frightened half the city, and for once he sounded frightened of what it might tempt him to do. "Good," I said. "Because I can't be part of a life where somebody gets hurt every time you're angry."
"Neither can I anymore." He let out a slow breath. "I'm learning how many doors I used to keep locked."
He set the bag on the kitchen counter and looked at the chair I had pulled out. "May I sit?"
"You can. But if this is about my employment claim, talk to Helen."
He nodded without offense. "It's not. I wanted to thank you for helping Sofia. And apologize again for the way the estate treated you. I know repeated apologies don't fix it."
"They don't," I said. "But I appreciate you not asking me to pretend."
Gabriel glanced at my father's photograph. "Sofia says you want to study glass conservation."
"Yes. I'm applying to a training program. I'll pay for it myself if I can."
"Good."
He said it without offering to buy the school, and I found that unexpectedly comforting.
"Do you still want to be a boss?" I asked him.
He gave a tired half-smile. "That's an unusual question."
"You're a powerful man, Gabriel. But you're letting a lawyer tell you what records to produce and a judge tell you what assets you can't touch. Do you hate it?"
He took his time. "I hate discovering how much of my life I've controlled by making other people afraid to say no. I thought that meant I was secure. It meant people hid mistakes from me, including my own."
"And Celeste used that."
"Yes. But that doesn't excuse me."
I studied his face. Beneath the polished hair and expensive coat, he looked young enough to be frightened of the future. I wondered whether he'd ever allowed anyone to see that before.
His phone rang. It was Sofia. He put her on speaker at my suggestion.
"They found the four missing stones," she said, her voice breaking. "The specialist examined the protective sleeves Dad described. They were concealed in a shipping component the first inspection had classified as empty hardware. All four are there."
I covered my mouth. "They're safe?"
"They're being documented and tested. The preliminary markings match the inventory, but final identification will take time."
Gabriel closed his eyes. For a moment he didn't move. Then he whispered, "Mom's collection."
Sofia's voice softened. "We may get it back. All of it."
"What about Lucien?" he asked.
"Detectives have more than the stones now. Celeste's phone contains messages about diverting the shipment and preparing the forged insurance claim. Her attorney is discussing a formal interview."
Gabriel leaned toward the phone. "Tell Ruiz I'll provide any remaining records. No conditions."
"I already told her you'd say that," Sofia replied.
She hung up, and the kitchen seemed suddenly too quiet. I could hear rain beginning against the glass.
"You did it," Gabriel said to me.
"My father drew the sleeves. Sofia knew where to send the plans. The investigators found the stones."
"And you noticed what everyone else walked past."
I shook my head. "I helped. That's enough."
He smiled, not the polished wedding smile I'd seen across the ballroom, but something uncertain and real.
"Would you like to see the collection when it's restored?" he asked.
"Maybe. If nobody asks me to polish a fifteen-meter mirror ever again."
That made him laugh, a sudden deep sound that startled us both.
Then his phone vibrated again. The laughter died. Gabriel read the message twice before speaking.
"Celeste has given investigators a statement about my mother," he said.
"What kind of statement?"
"She claims Lucien used an unsigned draft letter from Mom to justify the original loan. But she also says he destroyed the final version."
My eyes went to the box of blueprints on our table.
"Your mother's last letter?"
"The one protecting the collection."
A terrible thought settled in me. The gemstones were nearly accounted for, but ownership could still be contested if the wrong version of Elena's wishes governed the trust.
May you like
My father had kept a photocopy of her warning. Somewhere there had to be an original.
And if Celeste was right, the person who knew where it had been was the man determined to take the collection away.
